


Touch of Shadow

by beautifulandsweet



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Bondage, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulandsweet/pseuds/beautifulandsweet
Summary: “All that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes.”Future Rogue kidnaps Sting.





	1. Blood

“All that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes.”

Panting, Sting leaned back against the cave wall. His wrists hung uselessly above his head. Shadow chains wound around his arms, keeping him pinned against the cold rock until his breaths came in white puffs of fog. His right eye had swollen shut, and blood was still dripping from the jagged wound in his side. Even that didn’t stop him from glaring at the stranger who was readjusting the torch on the wall. “Fuck you.”

When Natsu had told him about meeting Future Rogue, Sting had not believed him. Sting had fought side-by-side with Rogue throughout the battle with the dragons. He remembered standing back to back with his Rogue-- quiet, loyal, secretly kind Rogue-- and in that moment of chaos and carnage, he had felt damn near invincible with his partner at his back. 

Now, staring at the psychopath wearing his partner’s face, Sting was sure of it. This thing was not Rogue. It even smelled unfamiliar. Sure, it had the same body, the same voice, the same menacing shadowy aura… but when it dragged his fingernails through the bloody hole in Sting’s side, it was the touch of a stranger. There was no warmth, no tingle of magic, no sense of life at all. It was like being touched by a shadow, a living nightmare instead of a person.

“Hmm. Still mouthy. I miss that.” Future Rogue, or whatever it was, used the blood on his fingernail to trace a design across Sting’s abs. He was close enough that Sting could smell him-- a scent close to his partner’s, but not identical. He shuffled through his memory, trying to place the scent, but then Future Rogue pressed his palm flat against the now-complete magic circle. Sting hissed as the wound on his side flared with pain.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t have you accessing your dragon force.” With one finger, he lifted Sting’s chin until they were eye-to-eye. “How do you think I managed to kill you the first time?”

Sting bit his finger.

Future Rogue made a strangled sound as he jerked away, and then he knocked Sting’s head sideways so fast that his vision momentarily turned white and his cheek scraped painfully against the rock. Still, when Sting shook off the pain, he looked back at his captor with a cocky grin.

“You’re not him.” He even managed a chuckle. “Man, he is going to kill you when he finds us.”

“You still don’t believe me.” Future Rogue stepped back with a smirk. “But he does.”

Sting may not have believed Natsu about this Future Rogue character, but he knew that his partner did. For as long as Sting had known him, Rogue had been plagued by self-doubt and the dark belief that his own shadow would consume him someday. Sting had worried about what Rogue would do if he were ever confronted by this doppelganger who claimed to be just that, a future Rogue who had been driven mad by something evil.

So when Future Rogue had lured Sting’s team out on a mission and ambushed them, Sting expected the worst. In the heat of battle, Rogue had faced his darkest fear and froze. Future Rogue aimed a shot at him, and if Sting had not tackled his partner out of the way, then Rogue probably would have died. Sting had snapped. He pulled rank as guildmaster and ordered Rogue to take Yukino and the Exceeds to safety. Rogue had hesitated. Future Rogue managed to catch Sting in the side with a blast of shadow magic. Still locked in battle, Sting had screamed at Rogue to take care of their friends, and only then did Rogue escape. 

The fight that followed had been both brutal and brief, ending with Sting losing consciousness on the ground. He woke up chained to a cave wall and desperate to think of a way out of this. Despite the bravado, Sting secretly hoped Rogue did not find them. This impostor had caused Rogue too many nightmares. 

Sting was still a dragon slayer and a Sabertooth wizard. Even chained and bleeding, he had comrades to defend, and he intended to do just that.

Future Rogue seemed disappointed that Sting had not responded to the taunt, so he switched tactics. “Sabertooth became so much stronger after you died.” Sting said nothing, but his face must have betrayed him. Future Rogue continued with a cruel gleam in his eyes.

“Oh yes. I had to trim the fat, of course. Orga put up a fight. Lector couldn’t be consoled. Yukino cut away her own guild mark and disappeared with him.” Sting flinched. It hurt just to think about poor Yukino being pushed to that extreme. “Then there was Minerva. She played along, plotted to double-cross me and take the guild for herself. Her end was… messy.”

“Shut up,” Sting said through clenched teeth. “I don’t believe you.”

“No? So how do I know that you used to let Rufus buy your clothes because you get bored at the store? How you and Orga spent a night in jail once after tearing up that karaoke place on the coast?” Future Rogue leaned closer. “How do I know that you train harder when Lector is watching? How do I know that, after a long mission, you used to crash on my couch and scribble notes in the margins of all my books? Pissed me off, by the way.”

Sting growled. “Stop talking like you’re him.”

That awful smirk just widened. “So… do you want to hear how I did it?”

“Did what?”

“How I killed you.”

Maybe it was the chill in the air, maybe it was the way the words dropped like lead between them, but Sting couldn’t suppress a shiver. Future Rogue had bested him once. He would be an idiot not to take his threats seriously now, when he was injured, chained, and sporting a blood-encrusted magic circle on his belly.

“I needed your power. The Twin Dragons were always stronger together. After Frosch…” Future Rogue gulped, his steely expression faltering for the first time, but then he skipped ahead. “You wouldn’t listen to my plan. You refused to hear me. So I seduced you.”

“What.”

Future Rogue smiled. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel anything for your, ahem, partner.”

Sting felt his face heat up. “No. We’re just friends. A team. Brothers in arms.” It’s not like he had ever fallen asleep with his head on Rogue’s lap, or spent a quiet evening fiddling with Rogue’s hair as the other tried to patch a hole in Frosch’s outfit, or let his gaze linger on his partner’s abs after a training session…

Future Rogue raised an eyebrow. “It didn’t take much for me to get you into bed.”

Sting was pretty sure his face had turned red. Okay, if it were Rogue, it wouldn’t take much at all. It wouldn’t ever happen… but if Rogue ever gave him a hint... 

Future Rogue reached out to stroke along Sting’s collarbone. The cool touch made him shudder, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was disgust or arousal. “All it took was a kiss… like this.”

This kiss was bruising and wild, so entirely unlike what Sting would have expected from his partner. He could barely breathe with this stranger shoving his tongue into his mouth, as if he were trying to eat him from the inside out. To be honest, it was kind of hot, but it also left his stomach churning. Less butterflies, more angry hornets.

So when Future Rogue pulled away with a smirk, Sting shoved all of his confused feelings down, hard. His mouth, which had been hanging open in shock, twisted into a snarl. “Don’t make me bite you again.”

Future Rogue had kept his hand on Sting’s collarbone. Now his fingers slowly crept upward, until his hand was wrapped around Sting’s neck with his thumb casually pressing against his Adam’s apple. 

“One kiss,” he continued, “and I had you how I wanted you. You were always such a kinky bastard, it didn’t take much to convince you to put those gloves to better use. You were so eager to let me touch all over.” His other hand pressed painfully against the magic circle. “It was only too easy to absorb your power.”

Is that why he didn’t smell familiar? Because his scent was a combination of Rogue and Sting? That was a horrifying thought.

“Is that what you want, a second course?” Sting would lie if he said he wasn’t nervous, but he had enough practice putting on a brash facade for the guild that he was pretty sure it didn’t show on his face. “You think if you eat me a second time that you’ll be that much stronger?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” Future Rogue rubbed his thumb against Sting’s throat. “I’m taking Sabertooth from you. Again. I’ll take your lacrima while you wriggle and scream. Again. I will have one more chance to watch the light fade from your eyes. Without your dragon force, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“And after,” Future Rogue leaned even closer to whisper in Sting’s ear, “I’ll go find that partner of yours. I will describe every gory detail of your death, and then I’ll kill him, too.”

Sting jerked his head away. “I thought you had to keep Rogue alive. What with you being from the future and all.”

“I thought you didn’t believe me. Convinced now?”

“Nope.” With that, Sting jerked his knee up. Future Rogue howled in pain, and Sting took the opportunity to headbutt him in the face. “You’re not his future! You’re nothing more than a shadow wearing his face!”

The outburst might have been satisfying, but it still left him chained to a wall with a psychopath who looked ready to kill him. Sting braced himself.

Shadows gathered in Future Rogue’s hand and shot toward Sting’s face, wrapping around his neck and face, invading his mouth, threatening to choke him. He bucked and twisted against his shadowy bonds. Blackness covered his eyes, and he could not breathe. He was cold everywhere the shadows touched, and he could not breathe, he needed air--

\-- and suddenly the shadows were gone, and there was a hot tongue in his mouth again. Rough hands were grabbing his sides, making his wound throb painfully. Sting’s vision was still dark at the edges from lack of breath. He could barely think.

But he felt the brush of bangs against his face, the heat of another body pressing him into the rock wall, the barest pressure of a thumb under the waistband at his hip. The shadow retreated just enough that Sting could take a single deep breath.

That was enough.

The circle on his stomach may have prevented him from using dragon force, but he still had his light magic. Summoning every ounce of magical strength he had left, Sting roared right into Future Rogue’s mouth.

Sting could just imagine Rogue’s relief when he heard that he would never have to worry about that impostor again. He could see his partner’s smiling face…

The next thing he knew, he was face-down on the cave floor. His arms were too sore to move, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding again. He could hardly hear anything over the roar of his own pulse in his ears. The torch on the wall had burned down to the point that he would be in the dark soon. How long had he been lying there?

He glanced around for signs of Future Rogue, but there was nothing. Not a hair, not a strip of cloth.

Sting groaned. Had he endured all that just for the impostor to escape?

“Alive.”

Sting flinched. So he hadn’t succeeded. He hadn’t saved Rogue.

“You’re alive.” Warm hands touched Sting’s shoulders. “Hurry, this way! He’s hurt!”

Sting rolled his head sideways, and that’s when he saw his other half crouched over him. His Rogue, the real Rogue, was pressing two fingers against his neck to check his pulse. Did he look that bad?

“Yes, you look bad,” Rogue snarled at him. Sting almost smiled. He always yelled at Sting when he was worried. “Hell yes, I’m worried. You look like you tried to wrestle a bear and lost.”

There were other voices and other bodies crowding around now. Sting thought he could hear Lector and Yukino calling his name, but right now, he only had the strength to focus on one thing.

“You’re okay?” he asked Rogue.

“Yes.” Rogue finished checking his pulse and moved his hand to ruffle gently through Sting’s hair. 

“Everyone’s safe?”

“Yes.”

Sting relaxed then. He let Rogue gently roll him onto his back. Rogue hissed in sympathy when he spotted the wound. Sting watched the struggle in his eyes for a moment as he debated whether or not it was okay to touch, and Sting huffed. “Go ahead. I know you need to check for yourself.”

After being roughhoused by that shadow bastard, Sting wanted nothing more than to feel the hands of his real partner. He needed to know that the nightmare was over, that the real Rogue had come back for him. A tiny part of him needed to know that Rogue would still touch him after all the things that the fake had done, all the things the fake had said-- but Sting refused to give a voice to that tiny part of himself. It was bad enough to feel that way at all. 

If Rogue sensed his desperation, he said nothing. Gentle hands traced over Sting’s black eye, across the bruise on his neck, around the wound on his side. Rogue paused when his fingers came to the magic circle, still unbroken. His lips clenched into a white line.

Sting’s arms were still throbbing from being held above his head so long, but he forced one hand to rub at the circle. He broke up some flecks of blood with his thumbnail. Suddenly Sting felt a rush of energy that could only be the dragon force returning to his system. He hadn't even noticed how weak he felt without it until it returned.

Rogue must have sensed something, too, because his breath seemed to even out as soon as the magic circle was broken. He tugged Sting’s hand into his own. “Anything else hurt?”

“Everything,” Sting whined. Somewhere in this process, he had regained enough attention span to realize that there was a small crowd of people hovering a few feet away, Yukino, Minerva, and Dobengal among them.

“There’s our Master Crybaby,” Rogue joked.

“Hey,” Sting protested. “Don’t kick a man when he’s down. I was defending you, darn it.”

“You were defending me, huh?”

“I bit him.”

There was a round of laughter from somewhere behind him, but Rogue just smiled. “I’m so proud.”

“Seriously, though,” Sting said, “he wasn’t you.” Rogue had to know that. Sting needed him to know.

Rogue found Sting’s hand and gently squeezed it. “I know. Now let’s clean you up and get you home. Bloody is not a good look for you.”


	2. Touch

The first time it happened, Rogue thought he had imagined it.

When Rogue walked in, Sting had been draped over one of the tables in the guild hall, arms stretched over a scattered pile of job requests that needed to be approved by the guild master. Yukino brought him a steaming mug of something that smelled sweet, something that Sting would have protested if anyone else brought it to him, but he accepted the cup from Yukino with a bright grin. 

Rogue shook his head with a smile of his own. Sting had figured out a while ago that if he played up his workload, Yukino would fuss and coddle him. Yukino had figured out a while ago that the quickest way to cheer him up was with copious amounts of sugar. And Rogue had known all along that it was fun to tease them both about it.

“Don’t let him fool you, Yukino,” he said as he sat down. “He’s dragging this morning because Orga hauled him to the bar for karaoke night, and the idiot didn’t know when to quit.”

“Are you referring to me or Orga?” Sting laughed. “Hey, someone had to keep the lug out of jail. He gets riled up when no one claps along.” Sting took a sip from his drink and suddenly straightened up. “Hey, Yukino, what is this?”

“White hot chocolate.” She slid into the seat beside Rogue. “Lector and Frosch helped me make it. Lector said you like white things, so…”

“I love it! Can we add this to the bar menu?” Sting took another long sip before offering it to Rogue for a taste, but he declined with a wave of his hand. 

“Speak of the devil,” Rogue said as Orga walked in with Rufus in tow. “When did you guys get back from the mountains?”

“Just in time to start the party last night, right, Master?” Orga thumped a hand on Sting’s back in a friendly greeting.

Sting froze.

In one instant, the scene went from a normal, relaxed morning to a silent, almost electric moment of tension. Rogue jumped to his feet, Yukino scanned their surroundings with her keys in hand, and Rufus positioned himself back-to-back with Orga. The big man himself held up his hands, unsure what had happened.

Rogue studied Sting’s face: eyes wide, nostrils flared, lips pressed into a thin line. He almost looked sick. Then he visibly relaxed, leaning back with a cough and an exaggerated smile. “Sorry about that, buddy, I think I swallowed wrong. So how did things go with the mole?”

Orga and Rufus exchanged looks but relaxed into a conversation about their last mission. Apparently they had run into Fairy Tail on the mission and brought back some farfetched tales about Natsu’s latest overreaction, which had Sting in stitches. Yukino sighed and leaned against Rogue’s shoulder. She kept her voice low as she spoke to him. “Geez. Just look at us, all jumpy and panicking.” 

Everyone had been on edge since Sting’s kidnapping. It had been a hard blow to their confidence, but Rogue did his best to pretend otherwise. Sting had told him that he just wanted to move on, and Rogue had not pushed. Maybe he should have.

Sting had shoved the mug of white chocolate at him again, so Rogue took a sip. Too sweet for his taste. “What do we have to be jumpy about? We’re Sabertooth. One lost Games aside, we’re still the strongest guild in Fiore.”

“Don’t let Gajeel ever hear you say that,” Yukino said. “Still, it’s nice, isn’t it? Can you imagine anyone worrying about Master Jiemma like that? Everyone here cares about Sting so much and wants to keep him safe.”

Sting glanced sideways at them with a scowl. “Hey, what are you talking about over there? I don’t like you two conspiring together.”

Rogue grinned. “You heard the lady, dragon slayer.”

Rufus must have heard, too, because he added, “It’s true, I cannot recall anyone worrying about Master Jiemma’s safety.”

“That’s because with Father around, everyone was more worried about staying safely away from him.” Minerva took a seat without invitation and started tidying up Sting’s papers. Rogue cringed. No one but Minerva could make sense out of her organizational system, and Rogue would probably end up restacking the whole pile just so Sting could find anything. Even so, no one was brave enough to say a word about it to M’lady.

“You guys make me sound like a total weakling,” Sting protested. He jumped up on the table bench and struck a fighting pose. “I’ll have you know that I’m the stronger Twin Dragon, and that makes me the strongest mage here!”

“You’re picking fights now?” Rogue asked. “Just because you won an arm-wrestling match does not make you stronger than me.”

“Actually…” Orga started, but Rufus elbowed him. Yukino giggled.

Rogue ignored Sting’s taunts, and soon enough the “stronger” Twin Dragon got distracted by an argument with Minerva about one of the job requests. Frosch and Lector emerged from the kitchen covered in powdered sugar, and Rogue excused himself from the group to dust them off.

When he glanced back at the people crowding around Sting, Rogue thought about Yukino’s comment. It was nice to see so many people who clearly cared about him.

Still… he couldn’t help noticing that Sting’s laughter sounded a little forced.

 

The second time it happened, Rogue wondered if it was his fault.

Sting flopped onto Rogue’s couch facefirst. He groaned something into the upholstery. Rogue watched in amusement from the doorway between the living room and kitchen. “Sorry, I can’t understand you when you’re mumbling into the cushions.”

“I said, budget sheets are going to haunt my dreams.”

Rogue crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? Better be including the rent you’re paying for all the nights you’re crashing at my place.”

“Ha.” Sting rolled so that he could make a pouty face. “Deny it all you want. You love it when I stay over.” 

“True…” Rogue stepped sideways as Lector and Frosch ran into the room. Their eyes lit up when they saw Sting sprawled on the couch. 

“Hop on Pop!” Lector yelled, and the Exceeds launched themselves. Sting grunted at the impact and only then did Rogue remember the wound on his side.

“Hey guys, not tonight,” he called.

“I think so, too!” Frosch hopped down and patted Sting’s arm.

Then it happened again. Sting froze.

Once more, Rogue was scanning the room, and Lector was hovering on his wings, ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Frosch, on the other hand, continued to pat Sting’s arm as if nothing had happened.

Sting huffed out a laugh. “It’s okay, guys, stand down. Just a little sore.” 

That’s when Rogue put two and two together. It hadn’t been just this morning with Orga. Hadn’t Sting flinched when Dobengal touched his shoulder the other day? Rogue had brushed it off as a normal reaction to being startled, but Sting usually smelled the ninja mage long before he made a sudden appearance. And when Minerva had been telling everyone about her last mission and how she flirted the location of a lacrima out of an unsuspecting merchant, she had trailed her fingers up Sting’s arm for effect, and he had leaped up for another drink. Rufus had teased him, but Minerva kept her hands to herself after that.

Sting sat up, pulling Lector onto his lap. “Rogue?”

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Well, not me.” Rogue stepped backward, giving Sting as much space as he could. “You’re still hurting from what Future Rogue did.”

Sting’s face turned to stone in an instant. “I hate that we don’t have anything else to call him. For the last time, that thing wasn’t you.”

“But it had my face, didn’t it?” Sting said nothing. “It touched you.”

“Well, yeah. Hard to kidnap and torture someone without touching them.” Sting leaned back, deliberately putting on a show of relaxing. “I guess Minerva could do that. Might take it as a challenge…”

“Stop it. You don’t need to act like you’re okay. Not with me.”

“Oh?” Sting lifted his lip in a snarl that would have done Master Jiemma proud. If Rogue hadn’t grown up beside that snarling face, he might have been intimidated. “Because you’ve adjusted so well, haven’t you? You don’t rely on me for anything.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I know you still have nightmares about the shadow,” Sting said. “I can hear you. You still mumble in your sleep about turning into that monster.”

The accusation stung, mostly because it was true. Rogue would probably always harbor a secret fear of turning into the Future Rogue that plotted and murdered for the sake of power. But that did not matter right now. “Don’t make this about me. We’re talking about you right now and the fact that you flinch when anyone touches you.”

Sting rolled to his feet, still holding Lector, who looked worried. “Seriously? I have so many faults as a guild master, and your problem is that I flinch?”

“The fact that you’re the guild master has nothing to do with this. You’re still my partner, and I need to know that you’re not going to freeze up in the middle of a fight.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? As if I’d hesitate when you were in danger-- which, by the way, is exactly what you did when you saw that impostor in battle! Where do you get off yelling at me, huh?”

“That is not what I meant!” It made Rogue’s stomach feel like ice every time he remembered that horrible moment when Future Rogue got a shot in on Sting. Just another memory to fuel his nightmares, but he could deal with that later. “This isn’t about me, remember? I’m worried about you, you idiot, and whether you get hurt because you’re still affected by Future Me.”

“Of course I’m still affected!” Sting was yelling in his face now. “That thing talked about hurting the guild. It talked about Lector and Yukino and you. It’s my job to protect you all, and I failed.”

“You did protect us. You made sure that thing would never come after us again.”

“Did I?” Sting looked away. Tears hovered in the corners of his eyes. “I never saw a body.”

Lector piped up. “Because you blew it to smithereens!”

Sting choked on a laugh, and while he was distracted, Rogue wrapped him in a hug. Lector protested about being squished, but Rogue squeezed Sting around the shoulders and pressed their foreheads together. To his relief, Sting did not freeze. He melted at the contact and started to cry.

 

Sting woke up the next morning on the couch. For one blissful minute, he just lay there with Lector snoring on his chest. There was a blanket on him that smelled like Rogue. Somehow his stack of unorganized papers had been organized and stacked neatly on the coffee table. Sting smiled and wondered how long Rogue had stayed up to do that.

Oh. Right. Rogue.

Sting had not meant to fall apart last night. Really, he had intended on keeping the details of his encounter with Future Rogue to himself, but after Rogue hugged him, Sting had spilled everything out. To his embarrassment, that included Future Rogue’s story about seducing and killing his future self.

_It didn’t take much for me to get you into bed._

Sting shivered. Somehow he felt like he was tempting fate by sharing everything with Rogue, as if he would get ideas. Of course he wouldn’t. Just as he kept telling everyone else, that thing had not been his partner. He was safe now. Rogue would keep him safe, wouldn’t he?

“I could hear your stupid overthinking from all the way upstairs.”

Sting glanced up at Rogue, who emerged from the stairwell in a pair of sleeping pants with a dozing Frosch cradled in one arm. Rogue was giving him a sour look that made Sting defensive. How had he made him mad this early in the morning?

“You didn’t tell me anything that I couldn’t have guessed, anyway. You’re not that mysterious.” Rogue shoved Sting’s feet up so he could sit on the couch, too. “By the way, if I ever did anything to you, the others would just hunt me down for it. In case you missed the show yesterday, you’re pretty well-loved around here.”

“I think so, too,” Frosch murmured in her sleep.

Sting sighed. His friend’s forehead was creased in worry, and it was his fault. “You accuse me of overthinking, but how much sleep did you get last night?”

“Not enough, you jerk.”

“Is this your way of comforting me?” Sting asked.

“Comforting?” Rogue snorted. “You don’t need comforting. You need to get out of your own thick skull and get back to your budget sheets, idiot.”

“You are. You’re trying to comfort me.” Sting grinned.

“Huh?”

“You always boss me around when you’re worried.” Sting rested his feet on Rogue’s lap. “I think it’s cute.”

“You know what else is cute? When I kick you out of my house and tell you to get back to work.”

Rogue said that, but Sting just snuggled back under the blanket. Rogue ended up falling asleep for a little longer, and when he woke up again, Sting and his pile of papers were both gone.


	3. Shadow

Rogue eventually found Sting in the old audience hall. The twin tiger statues sported white coats of dust, and it had been a while since the purple curtains had been pulled back from the windows. These days, everyone tended to avoid this room. The walls held too many bad memories of Jiemma thundering out mission assignments or public condemnations. Dust stirred up wherever Rogue stepped, which probably should have bothered him, but he was almost glad. Those days of misery were over, thanks to the young guildmaster slouched sideways on Jiemma’s old throne.

Sting glanced up from the book on his lap. For a moment his forehead crinkled, like he was still thinking about something else, but then a grin slid across his face. “Yo, when did you get back?”

“About an hour ago,” Rogue said. “I tried to find you first, but no one had seen you. What are you doing in here?”

“Ugh.” Sting sank back into the chair. “You’re not allowed to leave me ever again. Everyone’s been hovering over me for days. The minute you left with Minerva, Rufus started in on his list. He’s still campaigning for a larger record budget, like he doesn’t visit the Crocus libraries every few weeks anyway. Then there was Yukino, shoving food at me every five minutes. She’s relentless.”

“That’s not what she told me,” Rogue said. In fact, when he had poked his head into the kitchen half an hour ago, Yukino had cornered him and told him to make sure Sting ate something. She tried to send food with him, but he just patted her shoulder and promised to bring his partner by later. 

Frosch had stayed behind in the kitchen. Lector had been helping cut out cookies, and Frosch decided that baking cookies sounded like more fun than tromping around the guild for a third time.

“Dunno what they’re so worked up about,” Sting muttered, returning to the book on his lap. He chewed absentmindedly on the quill in his hand. Rogue shook his head. He had advised Yukino not to stock the office with swan feather quills. He’d known that Sting wouldn’t be able to resist them.

Rogue plucked the quill out of his hand. “How long have you been hiding down here?” he asked. “Come on. You might have been spoiled while I was gone, but I haven’t had a good meal in a week.”

Sting scoffed. “Lies. You took the job with Minerva. M’lady wouldn’t let you starve.”

“Unless I made her mad.” Rogue tugged Sting up by the arm. “Which I did.”

“How?” After a second, Sting added, “Why? Do you have a death wish?”

Rogue shrugged. While the rest of Sabertooth had been fussing over Sting and driving him crazy at the guild, Rogue had been fussing over him from afar and driving Minerva crazy on their job. She had not appreciated his constant worrying, and when they returned to the city, she told Rogue that she would not take any more jobs with him until he sorted everything out with Sting.

“He’s not a victim,” Minerva had said, “so stop treating him like one. Whatever happened in that cave, he survived it. He wants to move on, so let him. I mean it, Rogue, no kid gloves.”

Rogue had bowed his head, not wanting to argue with the tigress that was his guildmate, but he wondered if he should tell her that he had no “kid gloves.” After Sting broke down at his apartment that night a few weeks ago and told him exactly what happened in the cave, Rogue had basically yelled at him for being mopey. He grimaced at the memory. He had meant to make Sting feel better, but he didn’t think that was how it came out.

“Rogue?” Sting asked, bringing him back to the present. “You okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

Rogue intended to keep his promise, swing by the kitchen with Sting, and invite Yukino and the cats out to dinner at whichever restaurant they found first. That was not what happened.

The minute they stepped into the main hall, they knew something had gone wrong. Tables lay on their sides. One bench stuck out of the wall. Half of the Sabertooth sign dangled over the bar. The other half lay across the floor in splintered pieces. There was no blood but also no sign of any of the wizards who had been lounging in the hall earlier. 

“What happened here?” Sting clenched his hand into a faintly glowing fist.

“Frosch!” Rogue yelled as he ran toward the kitchen. Cookies lined one counter, but there was no sign of the cats or Yukino. “Frosch, where are you?”

Sting followed closely behind him, sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?”

Rogue paused. He was right, the kitchen should have smelled like sugar and chocolate, but it smelled foul, like rotten eggs or… sulfur. “Reminds me of Tartaros.”

“Demons.” Sting grabbed Rogue’s shoulder. “Where’s M’lady?”

“Right here.”

Rogue turned. Minerva leaned in the doorway that lead back out to the main hall. She clutched her traveling cloak around her shoulders even as sweat dripped off her chin.

“What happened?” Sting reached for her shoulder, but she stopped him by grabbing his wrist. Her fingers had grown black talons.

“The demon smell,” Rogue said. “It’s coming from you.”

“Yes.” Minerva stared at Rogue. Those were not the eyes of a demon. Those were the eyes of the girl he had grown up beside in the guild, the eyes of the wizard who had his back in battle. “Please listen. There’s not much time.”

“M’lady?” Sting asked.

She released his hand and let the cloak fall away. Underneath, black marks swirled around her arms and across her chest. One dark, twisting tendril reached up the side of her neck, as if it were a poison spreading through her veins. “I can feel it taking over. The shadow.”

“The shadow?” Rogue stepped closer.

“I knew the minute I saw these.” Minerva flexed her taloned fingers. “I can feel dark magic swelling inside me, like nothing I’ve felt since Tartaros. I don’t know how long I have… until I turn into a demon again, or until I lose control.” She turned toward Sting. “I won’t hurt our family.”

“I know.” He dipped his chin in a decisive nod. He trusted her judgment. “Where is everyone?”

“I had to send them somewhere safe, somewhere that you could go and bring them back after this is done.” She bit her lip, reluctant to say more.

“You took them to the shadow realm.” Rogue took a deep breath. It made sense. Minerva’s territory magic allowed her to follow Rogue to the shadow world, and he had taught her how to use the space to her advantage. Their friends would be safe there until Rogue could retrieve them.

Sting knew that as much as he did. “So you saved them. Now how do we save you?”

“The shadow,” Rogue said. “Like my shadow? The shadow that made Future Rogue?”

Suddenly Minerva pitched forward with a cry. Rogue and Sting reached for her at the same time-- so when a wave of dark energy rolled off her, they both flew backward through the air. Rogue knocked his side against the counter and sent half the cookies flying to the floor. Sting rolled across the kitchen island and landed in a crouch on the other side.

Minerva stood up with an eerie smile. When she looked at Sting, her green eyes had darkened to an unholy crimson. “Hello again, lover.”

 

Sting did not hesitate. Minerva had left the building, but she had made it clear what she wanted him to do. “Light Dragon Roar!”

The blast knocked Minerva back through the door into the main hall. She regained her feet just as Sting charged through after her. When he threw a punch of light magic at her, she caught his fist in her hand, extinguishing the light in a palmful of pure darkness.

“You didn’t leave me a choice,” the shadow said. It used Minerva’s voice, but Sting recognized the impostor who had taken Future Rogue’s form. “You destroyed my first vessel. I needed to find another heart stained by darkness. Lucky me to find one so close.”

“Get out!” Behind Minerva, Rogue materialized from the shadows and swiped at her from behind. “Shadow Dragon Slash!”

Minerva ducked and spun a leg out, knocking Rogue off balance. Sting easily caught his partner under the arms, keeping him upright, and they ended up standing back to back. Minerva, or rather the shadow in Minerva, skipped backward a few steps and regarded them as a child regards a pile of toys. She intended to play with them.

Sting’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. He knew how to fight shadows. As a wielder of light magic, as the partner of a shadow mage, Sting was more qualified for this fight than anyone he knew.

But he knew that this was a foe he could not underestimate. This shadow had possessed Rogue at the Grand Magic Games. It had corrupted Future Rogue and, if the stories were true, had killed Sting’s future self. It had even taken him captive, not to mention the horde of dragons it had unleashed on the capital.

Rogue gently bumped into his shoulder. “What was it you told me? ‘Whatever happens, happens. We’re a team.’”

“Right.” Sting relaxed. Of course. They were the Twin Dragons, unstoppable when they fought together. He summoned a ball of light into his hands and gave the shadow a big wink. “Don’t worry, Minerva, we’ll get you out of there in a jiffy.”

Minerva raised a taloned hand, and an arc of shadow shot toward Rogue. Sting thrust his ball of light toward the ceiling, where it sparked and lit up the whole room. Behind him, Rogue countered the shadow attack with a shadow of his own. 

“Nowhere to run,” Rogue said.

The shadow took a step forward. “Oh, I’m not running. I like it here. Lots of broken people. Lots of secret pain and fear.” It licked its lips.

Sting reached a hand back toward Rogue, and Rogue intertwined their fingers. Their unison raid techniques had been perfected over years of training. “White Dragon’s Rough Silk,” Sting said, and then they both dashed forward, circling around Minerva. Thin arcs of light and shadow burst from their fingertips and shot around her. The shadow threw out her hands, and a twin waves of darkness spread out in front of her like shields. Threads of light and shadow bounced away harmlessly.

Sting darted behind her. He could feel Rogue’s magic melding with his and loaning him more power. Rogue dashed in front of her and tore through the shadows like they were nothing. While Minerva focused on him, Sting gathered all the magic at his disposal into his fists until they shone bright as starlight. “Holy Shadow Dragon Flash Fang!”

The explosion had his ears ringing. Windows shattered and rained down glass. What was left of the tables clattered heavily across the floor. For one heart-stopping moment, Minerva stood completely still, and Sting was afraid he had made a mistake. What was he thinking? What if the blast killed her?

Then Minerva turned her head to face him. Her green eyes shimmered with tears and then closed as she slumped forward.

“Nice try.” Shadows slammed into Sting and flattened him against a wall. His head struck on the stone behind him, turning his vision dark for a precious few seconds. When his sight cleared, Rogue stepped toward him. He stretched his neck one way, then the other. The crackle of his neck popping was the only sound in the hall. “Mm, now this feels like coming home.”

“No.” Sting felt like all the air had left his lungs. The magical power that had been surging in his hands dribbled away like the last pitiful rivulets left after a flash flood. He had been stupid to waste so much of his power early in the fight. Rogue’s shadows crushed him against the wall, making it impossible to move. Without his power or his partner, his chances of survival had just plummeted.

Rogue, or the shadow wearing Rogue, had reached Minerva. She had lost consciousness, but she had also lost the talons on her hands. Her fingers ended in delicate round nails as usual. Rogue bent down to brush some hair out her face. “Oh, Minerva. You would never stop fighting me, would you?” His fingers slipped through her dark tresses and pressed against the side of her neck. “Maybe I should end your resistance here.”

Sting wasn’t sure how he did it, but he found the strength to roar. His breath of light magic hit Rogue in the chest and knocked him two steps back from Minerva. “Stay away from her!” Sting shouted. “You want power, right? Fine. I have all you need right here.”

“You?” Rogue’s face twisted into a smirk that Sting had only ever seen on Future Rogue’s face. “I don’t think so. We’ve been here before, haven’t we? You caught me by surprise once. It won’t happen again.”

“Wanna bet?”

Rogue lifted a hand and slowly curled his fingers into a fist. The shadows around Sting constricted and snaked up to his face, covering his nose and mouth. 

As the shadow said, they had been here before, but if the shadow wouldn’t give him another breath, well, Sting had come up with another strategy.

He slurped in the shadows and chomped down. For something without corporeal form, they sure were chewy. They were about as tasty as rubber bands-- not like the white things he liked to eat, which gave him a pleasantly warm and buzzy feeling. If his light was like champagne, these shadows were a dark stout… and not the good stuff, either.

“No!” Rogue shouted. One second, he was still standing over Minerva, and the next, he had shadow-traveled directly in front of Sting. Some tiny voice in the back of Sting’s head wondered how he had done that, given the light still shining near the ceiling, but then Rogue dug his fingers into the side of Sting’s head.

It was not like the cave. There, Future Rogue’s touch had been cold, lifeless, nothing like his partner. No, these were Rogue’s hands, warm and strong and achingly familiar. Sting wanted to curl into those hands, but he had to focus. 

“Spit it out before you hurt yourself,” the shadow hissed at him. “Just give up already.”

Sting bit through the shadows and made a show of taking a big swallow. He could finally take a deep breath as he stared down the shadow wearing his partner’s face. “Bite me.” Rogue’s face was snarling in front of him, twisted into a rage that Rogue rarely allowed to surface. Sting recognized that face from a handful of times he had pushed his partner to the breaking point. He almost felt the urge to laugh. If he was going out, then it was just his luck to go out like this.

With Rogue so close, all Sting had to do was lean forward and kiss him.


	4. Supernova

Of course, it wasn’t just a kiss. As much as Sting wanted to linger, to savor and explore and worship this mouth that he could not believe he was only tasting for the first time, Sting could also taste the shadow in Rogue’s mouth.

He envisioned himself as an empty space, a vacuum. He felt for that bitter, cold, nightmare-touch of darkness in Rogue and gave it a sharp mental tug. It held fast, almost seeming to burrow away from Sting.

It said it wanted pain and fear, huh? Well, Sting had plenty of that.

Sting reached for all those painful memories that he usually kept buried. His last day with Weisslogia, of course, and afterward all the years carrying that heavy burden of guilt. His time before Sabertooth, when he wandered Fiore, cold, hungry, alone. His time at Sabertooth, when Jiemma made him question whether he was worth even the clothes on his back. That dark night when he slipped away from the guild with the intention of never coming back. The next morning when Rogue beat the crap out of him and, in tears, made him promise never to do it again. The Grand Magic Games-- Yukino’s banishment, Lector’s “death,” Minerva’s manipulations. So many nights since then, as he struggled to learn his new role as guildmaster, as he missed time with Rogue, missed simply being one of the Twin Dragons.

That probably hurt the most: all the time he spent missing Rogue. Even now he was missing him, missing the real Rogue, and that made him press closer into Rogue’s mouth.

The shadow surged into him, unable to resist. Sting drank it down, welcoming it, willing it to come into him and leave Rogue alone.

It lasted a lifetime. It lasted mere seconds.

Either way, when Rogue pulled away, the shadow stayed with Sting.

The darkness around Sting slowly sank away and dissipated. His feet found the floor. Then he opened his mouth, and the shadow spoke through it. “Well, now. I never considered this.”

 

Rogue stumbled away from Sting… Sting whose eyes glimmered red. Shadow Sting.

It turned out that Rogue wasn’t the only idiot capable of being possessed. He would have preferred to keep that club exclusive. He had been so close to expelling the shadow, and suddenly Sting had been kissing him.

To be honest, Rogue had thought about a kiss like that for a long time, but he never expected… well, that. Nothing says romance like sucking an evil spirit out through the mouth. He still wasn’t sure how Sting had managed that, but that didn’t matter right now.

Shadow Sting smiled as he looked down at his palms. Shadows puffed out of his left hand, and a ball of light glowed in the right. “Interesting. I couldn’t use the girl’s spatial magic, but I can use-- hmm?”

Sting stared down at his stomach. It looked like he had swallowed a flashlight. The skin glowed. In fact, his whole body was glowing.

“Sting?” Rogue approached cautiously. “How… what are you doing?”

Sting’s head jerked back, as if someone had yanked it. Then he dropped backward against the wall, sliding down until his knees bent. When he glanced up at Rogue, his eyes flickered between blue and red, then back again. “H-hey, buddy, you better back up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Rogue reached for Sting’s arm, but when he touched Sting’s skin, it was hot enough to burn. He had to snatch his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? What kind of magic is this?”

“I’m blowin’ this bitch up.” Sting gritted his teeth. “Go on, Rogue, back up. Someone needs to bring the kids home.”

Rogue stared at him, not quite comprehending what he was hearing.

He had just come back from a mission. He wanted to get dinner with his friends. Somehow his worst nightmare had invaded the guild, his best friend had kissed him, and now Sting wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.

“Nope,” Rogue said. “That’s not happening.”

Sting stared at him for a moment. “I’m going supernova here any second. Move.”

“No.” Rogue stepped closer and grabbed the sides of his face. Sting’s face burned hot enough to scorch his palms, but he just yanked Sting’s face closer to him. “We’re a team. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Rogue--”

“I’m here.” Rogue pressed their foreheads together. “Do what you need to do. I’ll still be here.”

 

Sting blinked his eyes open and immediately regretted it. Everything was so bright, he could not make out anything. He shielded his eyes with a hand, but it was like the entire world had turned white. Where was he?

“What are you doing here?”

Sting turned around and squinted through the brightness. Behind him, Future Rogue stood with his hands resting on his hips. His signature black bangs hung over half of his face, almost obscuring the jagged scar where his right eye had been. Future Rogue looked the same as every other time Sting had seen him, with the long hair and over-the-top clothes, but for once, Sting was not afraid of him.

Sting did not sense any menacing aura, and when he gave the air a tentative sniff, all he smelled was Rogue-- not the weird Rogue-and-something-else that the shadow had smelled like. Future Rogue did not move except to furrow his brow, as if he were trying to figure Sting out, too.

“The shadow?” When Sting spoke, his throat burned as if he had been shouting.

“Gone,” Future Rogue said. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Sting growled. “Funny way of showing it.” 

Future Rogue shook his head. “It was my fault. After Frosch… well… it hurt so much. I lost a part of myself. You know what that feels like.” Sting flinched, remembering the night Jiemma had attacked Lector. “The shadow promised that it could end the pain. Make me whole again. It didn’t.”

“Wait. So everything you did at Crocus and… That was the shadow? It wasn’t you?” He knew it. He knew Rogue, his Rogue, could never become that monster.

“I’m not innocent,” Future Rogue said, “but what’s done is done. Don’t worry. The Rogue from your time has started down a different path.”

Sting blinked. The brightness was making his eyes water. “What about you? What happens now?”

“Now, it’s time for you to go back.”

 

Rogue slumped into the chair beside Sting’s bed. It had taken him almost an hour to retrieve the rest of the guild from the shadow realm and another hour to answer everyone’s questions, calm their nerves, send them home. They had retreated with much grumbling and unhappiness, and he would not be surprised if they started to slink back before too long. Not for the first time, he wished he could inspire confidence like his partner could. Sting would have laughed and waved them away, and they would have stayed away. Probably.

Right now, Rogue just wanted some time alone with Sting and the cats. He was too tired to deal with anything else.

Across the infirmary room, Minerva stirred in her chair. She had curled up with her feet propped on an old crate of medical supplies and her hands resting daintily on the heads of two sleeping Exceeds. Lector mumbled something in his sleep but quieted when Minerva scratched behind his ear.

Even with the lights dimmed, Rogue could make out the mottled bruises where the shadowmarks had wrapped around Minerva’s arms and chest. She caught him looking and folded her arms defensively. “I’m fine. So’s the idiot on the bed. How are you?”

Rogue forced a smile. “I could use a nap, actually.”

Minerva bit her lip. “Sorry. I would have brought everyone back myself, but I don’t think that would have been wise.”

“No, you did the right thing.” Rogue knew that she did not have the energy left to safely travel back to the shadow realm, not now. She had used up all her strength defying the shadow. “Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll take over here.”

She glanced over at the bed, where Sting lay motionless. The thin blanket did little to hide the gauze wrapped thickly around his middle. The magical blast had left his skin literally smoking. Rogue did not want to think about what it had done to him inside.

“When do the healers arrive?” Minerva asked.

Rogue shrugged. “Yukino was trying to get a hold of Wendy when I came up here. Porlyusica is on her way.”

Minerva nodded, and then she stood up. She placed the cats on the bed beside Sting. Frosch instinctively snuggled closer to Sting’s side, which made Rogue smile. A moment later, he realized Minerva was smiling, too. “I’ll check on Yukino then. If you need anything, please let me know.”

“Get some rest,” Rogue said again. Minerva gave him a wave but made no such promise as she breezed out of the room. He hoped Yukino would have better luck convincing her to take a break.

No sooner did she breeze out of the room than Sting bolted upright with a harsh breath. Rogue leapt out of the chair. “Hey, easy,” he said, placing a hand behind Sting’s shoulder to keep him upright. “Don’t hurt yourself any worse.”

“You’re here.” Sting winced as Rogue wedged a pillow behind him. “How? I told you to run.”

“Shh.” Rogue gestured toward Lector and Frosch. “Let them sleep. They’ve been worried.”

Sting gritted his teeth, but when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

Rogue scoffed. “I’m not the one in a hospital bed right now.”

Sting glanced down at his bandages. “I must have contained it then. Wasn’t sure if I could.” His eyes cut sideways to Rogue. “Which is why I told you to run, dummy.”

“You can give that up now.” Rogue sank back into his chair. “I lost you once, remember? I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Don’t trust me?” Sting asked. He grinned, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

“After you tried to take on that shadow by yourself?” Rogue felt his chest tighten again, just as it had when the shadow had taken over his partner. He had never been more angry-- at the shadow, at Sting, at himself. Sting must have heard the fury in his voice because he did not say anything. “Like I said, I’m not letting you out of my sight. No telling what stupid decisions you might make.”

“Decision might be a strong word for it,” Sting admitted. “I was mostly running on instinct there.”

“Stupid instinct.”

“All of it?”

“All of…” Rogue felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered the kiss. He had not had time to process that kiss yet. He probably should have been mad that Sting had not asked him, but the situation really hadn’t allowed it. Anyway, it didn’t mean anything, right? It had just been a gamble to fight the shadow.

But Sting was staring at him. His lips pinched tightly together. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to ask… Just never mind.” He looked away as his face flushed red.

Rogue blinked. Sting was embarrassed. Maybe he did mean it. Maybe he was conflicted about it. After all, until recently, he had been struggling to let anyone touch him without flinching, and then he had kissed Rogue without asking him. Maybe…

Rogue jerked up without really making the decision to stand. Maybe he should try running on instinct, too.

“What are you doing?” Sting asked.

“I want to try something,” Rogue said. He should use words, right? Too much had happened between them without them talking about it.

But he was afraid he’d chicken out.

He leaned over Sting, who watched him curiously. Rogue reached out and slowly, gently slid his fingers into the short hairs at the back of Sting’s neck. Sting accepted the touch without pulling away. Rather, he tilted his head up ever so slightly, and that was all the invitation Rogue needed.

His lips were chapped. That was Rogue’s first thought as their mouths pressed together. Then Sting’s teeth grazed over his bottom lip, and a warm tongue slipped up to welcome him in. Rogue tugged him closer, and their tongues tangled desperately together. For the first time in weeks, Rogue could feel all the worry and tension drain away. He felt safe, warm, at home.

He never wanted it to end, but all too soon, he pulled away. He cringed when he noticed Sting staring at him with wide eyes, like he had been shocked by an electric circuit. Oh no. Had Rogue imagined it all? Had he just ruined everything?

He moved to stand up-- somehow he had ended up balancing a hip on the edge of the bed-- but Sting grabbed him by the hand, hard enough to almost crush his fingers.

“Rogue.” His voice came out hoarse, so he cleared his throat. “You can try that whenever you want.”

Rogue settled back on the edge of the bed. “Really? So you…”

“When are you going to stop doubting yourself?” Sting tucked Rogue’s hand against the side of his face, so that Rogue could feel the heat in his cheeks. At least he was not the only one getting worked up here. “I’ve wanted to do that for years. I was starting to think I would never get the chance.”

“Years, huh.” Rogue leaned forward to hover over Sting’s face once more. He probably shouldn’t push, but hey, if they had years to make up for... “Well, here’s another chance. You better take it.”

The enemy had been vanquished. The guild was safe. They had each other. Rogue did not think he could be any happier, until Sting kissed him again.


End file.
